


And Then the Dark

by iamee



Series: The Places Where We End [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bathing/Washing, Clothed Sex, Dom/sub, Dry Sex, Forced Enjoyment, Humiliation, Implied Cannibalism, Kidnapping, Light Bondage, M/M, Mention of Past Abuse, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 18:50:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1358140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamee/pseuds/iamee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will figures it out. Hannibal decides to keep him. It goes on for far too long...</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Then the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> So there's more to this now. Because it's nice if stories have beginnings and endings too. Sort of.

**And Then the Dark**

 

Will wakes to a startled sound he only realises to have spilled from his own lips when he feels the dryness of his tongue, rolling in one himself to take a shaky breath. He's not yet fully awake, but his brain is struggling to catch up, trying to fill in the gaps he sees behind closed eyes. But then it all comes rushing back and he wishes it wouldn't, wishes it would stop, his body reacting to the memories, soreness everywhere and he winces when he moves again. He tries to get up from the mattress, his knees shaking and he feels so much weaker than he should, even after everything he's been through. Energy seems to drain out of him like he would be leaking, a ship in the middle of the ocean and nothing but water and the bottomless depths surrounding him. He's so lost.

It's then that he feels the fabric around his wrist, yanking him back when he is about to slip off the bed. He falls back down, heart drumming in his chest and he gives a helpless sound, grabbing for the soft chain, pulling at it but it's no use. It keeps him right there and he cries out in frustration, clearly remembering how he was pressed into the sofa without the chance of escape.

"I trust you rested well?" The voice from the door makes him freeze, licking his lips and stifling a sob.

Hannibal strolls into the bedroom, making his way to the bed and Will turns so he faces him, eyes burning but there are no tears.

"What do you want?" He croaks, tugging up his legs and not leaving Hannibal out of his sight.

"You wound me." Hannibal sets down a tray on the night stand. "I believe I've always been a good host to you. You should show me the same courtesy."

"Oh you've been good." Will closes his eyes, face paling as he recalls all the meals and – no, no he's starting to feel sick, so he keeps on talking to make it go away. "Perfect even. Too much perhaps. I should..." he looks up again, just in time to see Hannibal settle down on the edge of the bed. "I should have noticed." He ends, clenching his fists on the sheets next to his thighs.

Hannibal smiles, lifting an item off the tray and Will sees fog rolling over the surface of the water, speaking of its hotness.

"Don't be so hard on yourself."

Will laughs, but there is no humour in the sound: "You're getting a kick out of this, right?"

He flinches when Hannibal's hands move onto his shirt, unbuttoning it, his fingers steady and determined. Will resists the urge to swat them away with his untied hand, talking instead: "What are you doing?"

He's not sure he wants to know the answer.

"You need cleaning and I'm certain a trip to the bathroom wouldn't be enjoyable at this point." Hannibal has revealed his chest, his hands pushing down Will's legs, fingers working on the zipper. "And as you so eloquently phrased it, I'm getting a kick out of it."

Will struggles against the hands, until he feels nails pressing into the soft skin of his inner thighs and stills, looking at the ceiling and trying to breathe: "Stop."

His trousers are pushed down fully, along with his boxers and socks, leaving him naked from the waist down, and Will moves, trying to get away as far as the chain allows him. It might be a tie, he thinks. He tied me up with a tie. Part of him wants to laugh again at the absurdity of the thought but it comes out as a strangled sound.

Hannibal picks up a white piece of cloth and dips it into the water: "William, I thought you would understand by now that you are in no position to make demands." And with that he starts wiping over Will's chest, almost carefully, making him shudder every time their skin comes in contact.

"No." Will murmurs, when fingertips and wet cloth brush down his stomach. "No, no..."

Hannibal's taking time to clean him, dipping the cloth into water and squeezing it, until it colours with the filth on Will's body, turning soft rose with blood from bruises he doesn't even remember but feels now, just as he feels everything. Hannibal's warmth next to him, the touch of his fingers, calm fingers in more and more intimate places, making him writhe on the sheets, his hands fisting into the fabric. He's washing him thoroughly and it's like torture. Will swallows, blinks, feels himself half-hard from the moment on the touching started. Hannibal's fingers have reached the curve of his ass and he doesn't hesitate for a second before slipping one finger inside of him, crooking it and Will throws back his head: "Oh go-d!"

As if unimpressed by his reaction, the finger is taken away again, replaced by the wet cloth. Will moves up on the mattress, away from the intrusion and Hannibal clicks his tongue: "That was unwise, William."

Will's eyes open wide, he hears the cloth falling into the water bowl, sees Hannibal moving closer, pressing his hand to Will's thigh, scratching the skin.

"Hannibal!" Will chokes but then the hand is moving up, two fingers pushing into him in hard, fast movements, and he's dry and he's sore from the other night, so there is nothing left but screaming, his eyes watering.

"Please..." Will whimpers, twisting his body but Hannibal's other hand holds down his hip, keeping him steady while he adds another finger. The pain is overwhelming, he feels his spine must break when he arches off the bed for the uncounted time, fingers opening him too fast and too soon and he sobs, lifting his free hand to his mouth, biting the back of his hand. He doesn't want to give him the pleasure of his own discomfort, but oh it's obvious from the way he is shaking every time fingers push inside of him again, feeling deeper than it should be possible. He whines against his skin, face slick with tears.

"We need to work on your attitude." Hannibal's lips are brushing his forehead and Will turns his head, hips stuttering at a particular hard thrust and fingertips pressing up against his prostate.

"No... oh pl-pleaseno-oh." He gasps, not enough air in his lungs and his thighs quivering. "Not again not already!" he bites his tongue the moment the words have left his lips. It hurts, the tiny little motions of Hannibal's fingers now, only pressing inside, circling around the rim and it lacks wetness, anything to make him feel less full. Hannibal sighs into his forehead, like he's disappointed and Will starts trembling again.

"I think you need to learn to control your mouth."

Fingers slide out of him abruptly and Will groans.

He's never felt as weak, as powerless as right now, with Hannibal slipping between his opened legs, the tip of his cock pressing into him, nothing more, supporting his own weight on his hands, on either side of Will's hips on the mattress. Will wants to swallow again but his mouth is so dry and everything tastes like salt, so he just shudders, his muscles relaxing without him wanting to and Hannibal slides a little further inside, both of them gasping at the feeling.

"Say 'please' again." Hannibal watches his face and Will bites down on his bottom lip despite the ensuing pain.

Will grins, through the curtain of tears and despite himself: "Are you fucking serious?" His hand falls from his face, all too aware that Hannibal's again fully dressed (for the most part) while he's writhing under him, skin turning red and white under fingertips.

"Do you think I'm joking?" Hannibal asks, innocently enough, one hand sliding up to Will's throat, caressing the soft skin. Will gulps down air in order not to suffocate from the dim arousal he feels at the sheer power the man has over him.

"Please." He says, spits it out and Hannibal leans down, pressing an opened-mouth kiss to his chest, close to the nipple. "Say it and mean it." He whispers.

Teeth are closing around his nipple and Will shudders violently. It's not fair that Hannibal finds every spot where he's sensitive as easily as this. Like he were an open book and even his darkest desires readily on the pages.

"P-please." He repeats, feeling fingers stroke over his neck, up into his hair.

"That was... adequate..." Hannibal's sinking further down, the stretching already too much and Will moans in pain, moving his head and baring his throat but he can't help it.

"Please what, Will?" Words, spoken into his ear, as Hannibal moves to kiss him underneath the lobe. "What are you asking for?"

He draws breath but halfway it turns into a sob, Hannibal's lips gliding over his jaw, tongue swiping away the salt on his skin. He's on him now, weight pressing him into the mattress, one hand on his side, stroking him like he wants to reassure him. It's like a parody of comfort and Will whines, hips jerking off the bed.

"Please please Hannibal, please!"

Instead of an answer there are lips smiling at the corner of his mouth and Will shuts his eyes, heart trembling in his chest and tears flowing once more because he doesn't have a choice but to say it, do what he's been asked to do. "Pl-please fuck me. Please..."

He has expected the pain, kinda knew what was coming, but still it makes him whimper when Hannibal pushes fully inside, his groin pressed up against Will's backside, skin on skin making noises that are both intimate and obscene and Will cannot turn away because there are fingers in his hair, keeping him in place and then Hannibal's kissing him, gently and almost chaste, like lovers might kiss for the first time. It's all wrong and Will shakes, the movement rolling his hips down against Hannibal and the sensation is enough to make him cry out, gasp into Hannibal's cheek. They stay like this for a moment, Hannibal seemingly content with being buried inside of him, kissing him again, fingers stroking his curls.

"Oh," Will tries to break away from the kiss, wishing for movement, for friction, simply to get over with it. "You---"

Hannibal's hand wraps around his hip, thumb gliding over the bone: "I think you know how I feel about talking back, William." He pulls out, turning Will onto his stomach too quickly for him to react, air being squeezed out of his lungs and before he can lift himself up again, adjust his twisted arm, Hannibal's entering him again. "Let's try this again, shall we?"

"Godnopleaseno!" Will gasps into the mattress, feeling an arm slid under him, fingers pressing into his stomach and keeping him up so it's easier to find the right angle, thrust into him a few times until Hannibal pulls out almost all the way again.

"Say it." His voice is dark and so familiar and Will buries his face in the sheets, remembering every single time it has followed him when he went home, resounded in his mind, gave him this false sense of safety, of trust that he couldn't quite believe to be real. It was alluring to have Hannibal to fall back onto, all too entrancing. He had started to open up against better knowledge and now...  
Will can't breathe, cries quietly into the mattress.

"Come on." Hannibal's other hand trails over his back under the shirt, over his spine underneath the skin. "You don't want to make this any harder than it needs to be, do you?"

"Please." Will thinks he might die from the shame alone, from the overwhelming sense of betrayal when he realises he thought they could maybe even be more than just doctor and patient. One day.  
"I uh please, I need."

"You need?" Hannibal's voice is only slightly breathless and Will whines, shutting his eyes so it hurts, tears burning again.

"You." Will whispers, barely recognising his own voice.

When Hannibal pushes into him again, Will throws back his head, his hips meeting the motion mid-thrust, pushing down on him and he hears him moan, fingers digging deeper into his stomach until Will almost believes Hannibal must feel himself moving inside of Will's body and the idea sends shivers down his spine.

"Patience is a virtue, dear William." Hannibal groans into his shoulder, speeding up and then thrusting more slowly again.

Whatever was on Will's tongue is replaced by unintelligible sounds when Hannibal finds the spot inside of him that makes him whimper, all strength pushed out of his body, his knees giving in nearly before he manages to steady himself. He's so hard, he hears what remains of his blood singing in his ears and never has he dreaded and anticipated to find release like this.

"God oh g-god!" Will grasps for something to hold onto, the tie cutting into his flesh in this position.

"God has... nothing to do with this." Hannibal lets go off his stomach, wraps his hand around him and gives him a few strokes, skin wetted by sweat and precome. Will makes a sound that shouldn't come out of a human throat, so torn and needy, he feels like he's aflame. By now every thrust is pushing exactly where it needs to go, making him crazy with arousal and his skin seems to grow tighter, his eyelids fluttering.

"Please!" He sobs, his head bowed and his body trembling violently. "Please H-Hannibal."

The hand is gripping him harder and that's it, it's enough to send him off, crying out in some twisted mixture of pleasure and pain, coming over Hannibal's fingers, the sheets, smelling and gasping and his knees and hands finally failing him. He's breaking down only to be caught by hands pulling him up again, holding him even though he's boneless, noises rolling off his tongue and his heart racing painfully.

It's too much. Of course it is. He's spent and he's hurting and still it doesn't stop. Hannibal's fucking him like he doesn't tire, like he can manage to prolong his arousal until Will begs. But what for? What kind of future lies ahead of him if this is his present? Hannibal holds him up against his body, his breath on Will's ear, growing unsteady, the only hint that he is losing some of his composure. Whimpering, biting his lip, so exhausted and yet too awake, Will starts to move, as much as he can in his state. Meeting Hannibal's motions, following his rhythm, rolling hips that feel like there are nails instead of bones under the skin. He's so drained, he's thirsty and his brain demands sleep if only to be shut off for a moment.

"I... you..."

Hannibal pulls him closer, filling him so much, Will's hips jerk in response: "Attitude, Will." Hannibal repeats and Will arches his back, pushing against the thrust and he feels him tense, groaning and nails digging into his skin hard when he comes, so hot and with his lips pressing to Will's neck in the aftermath.

Will's sinking down into the mattress the second Hannibal lets go off him, idly moving limbs that feel broken. He feels him pulling out and can almost stop the whine from escaping his lips when come starts to trickle down his thigh. He hears the rustling of fabric, knows Hannibal's fixing himself up and Will wipes his face on the sheets.

"That was very naughty of you, William." Hannibal says, but it sounds a little bemused. "We'll have to see what we'll do about that..."

Will swallows thickly, needing water, sweat starting to cool on his body.

"But now," Hannibal leans down, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. "It's time for dinner, don't you think?"

 

**The End**


End file.
